Hope in the Day of Torment
by Zelofheda
Summary: Lucas North goes to see his ex-wife, but their conversation is interrupted by unexpected visitors.
1. Chapter 1

This is a follow-up to my Lucas North story "More Broken," also available here on FFN. It is more of a Lucas story than a Spooks tale, although MI-5 does make an appearance. Constructive criticism is welcomed, in fact, I'm begging you on bended knee for it, or any comments at all. Thank you!

xxxxx

In all his time of working for MI-5, Lucas North had never felt less like a spy and more like a stalker than he did at that particular moment. He stood where he'd been standing for the last ten minutes, in the middle of the street in broad daylight, visible from every angle, staring up at the window of the flat where his wife – no, his ex-wife – now lived. If Lina had been looking out of that window, she wouldn't be able to miss seeing him, but apparently, she wasn't looking.

If this had been an operation, Lucas would have been safely hidden inside a van parked just a little way down the street, watching everything on camera. But it wasn't an operation, it was just him, and if he wanted to find out what Lina was doing and if she really were living with someone else, as he'd heard, the best way was to go up and ring the bell. Still, Lucas hesitated. They'd been married once, but it had been eight years since they'd seen each other, three years since she'd divorced him. He couldn't expect her to want to see him as much as he wanted to see her.

Just as he had decided to walk to the door and look at the name by the buzzer, however, the light that were visible in the window went out. Lucas waited, and a minute later, the front door opened. He recognized Lina immediately as she came out, though she had a different hairstyle and was wrapped in a coat he'd never seen before. Unable to stop staring, Lucas watched as she pulled the door shut, drinking in every detail of her appearance and willing her to look up at him. But although Lina began to walk in Lucas' direction, she kept her head bowed and her eyes down in an uncharacteristcally cheerless manner.

Realizing that she could walk right by and never even notice his presence, Lucas swung himself into her path and spoke her name. "Lina."

She glanced up, irritated, and Lucas watched as the surprise on her face gave way to astonishment and disbelief. For a long moment she stood there, all but frozen, with her mouth hanging open just a little and her eyes darting from his face to his chest and back again. Finally, she whispered, "Lucas?"

"Hello, Lina," he said quietly, not daring to smile until he got some kind of signal from her that it would be appropriate.

"Lucas," she said again, and then her shocked expression melted into a big smile and she threw herself at him, crushing him in a hug. "Lucas! Oh, Lucas!"

Lucas hugged back, enjoying the sensation of her body pressed against his and her arms around his back. It was all right, then. He could smile back, and he did so, grinning so broadly that tears came to his eyes. Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head, but that proved to be a mistake. Lina loosened her grip and stared up at him, her smile gone.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, in Russian. He had always spoken Russian to Lina, to help keep himself fluent. "I forgot –"

"I'm sorry, too," she said, then let go of him and stepped away. "Oh, Lucas, I thought you were dead! You must come in and tell me everything!"

"Weren't you going somewhere?" Lucas asked, indicating her coat.

"Shopping," Lina said with a grimace. "For food, but I can do that anytime. This is much more important!"

She led him to the door of the building, where Lucas managed to get a quick look at the two buzzers, one of which said Barnes, and the other P. Mason, before Lina led him inside and up the stairs to her flat. "Come in, take off your coat, make yourself at home. I'll start some coffee."

The surroundings were different, but Lucas still recognized many of the furnishings from the flat they'd shared when they were married. Lina pointed out the living room and told him to sit down, then hurried into the kitchen. Instead of seating himself on the unfamiliar sofa, however, Lucas wandered around the room, looking at everything. Some of the knick knacks were the same, and some of the stuffed animals on the back of the sofa were old friends, but others were new. Eight years ago, one of their wedding photos had had the place of honour in the middle of the wall. Now, there was a different picture featured, one showing Lina and a man whom Lucas did not know. They looked so happy together that Lucas's heart ached, and he quickly glanced away. There was nothing in the room that had once been his, and Lucas felt as though he had been swept completely out of her life.

Eventually, Lina came into the living room with a tray and set it on the table. Lucas took the seat on the sofa which she indicated, and watched as she arranged everything to her satisfaction.

"What a coincidence. I've got your favourite Russian black bread here," she said. "I found it yesterday in a little shop that I found completely by accident!"

She put the plate in front of him and Lucas looked down at it with loathing. Black bread. Once, it had been a luxury, a special treat, but not since he'd had to eat it twice a day, every day, for eight years.

"No, thank you," he said, struggling to be polite.

Lina's hand hesitated on the handle of the coffee pot and she gawped up at him. "You don't like it anymore?"

"No, I've gone off it now."

As realization dawned, Lina's expression changed suddenly to one of horror. "Oh! I'm so sorry – I never thought! How stupid of me!"

She jumped up, whisking the plate away, and rushed into the kitchen. Lucas heard the sound of various cupboards opening and closing, and when Lina returned, she was carrying a plate with three milk chocolate Hob Nobs.

"I buy these for Nick," she said, and put the plate next to Lucas' saucer. "Thank goodness he didn't eat them all before he left."

Lucas noticed that her voice changed from forced cheer at the beginning of the sentence to naked worry at the end. Something was wrong there, but it wasn't his place to inquire. Instead, he waited until she'd poured coffee for both of them, and asked simply, "Nick?"

"Nicholas Barnes," Lina said. She took a drink of her coffee. "It's a very English name, isn't it, but he is Russian, or half-Russian. His mother was Russian, so he speaks the language perfectly, almost better than English. He is a very nice man, Lucas, but I don't want to talk about him just yet, I want to talk about you. I thought you were dead!"

"I'm still alive." Lucas bit off a small piece of the biscuit and swallowed, playing for time. He didn't know why it was so hard to explain to Lina what had happened. He hadn't had any trouble talking to the psychologists when he'd got back, or to anybody else from MI-5. Then he realized that they'd already known or guessed, and he'd only had to confirm it. In any case, they were used to dealing with that sort of thing. At last, he said cautiously, "I was caught by the Russians."

"But I didn't know that!" Lina exclaimed. "I asked your friend, that Harry Pearce, but he couldn't tell me anything except that you'd disappeared in Moscow. I tried to get information through my work, and through the friend of a friend of a friend, but nobody could find out anything!"

Holding his coffee cup in both hands, Lucas leaned forward. "I'm sorry. Lina, I'm so sorry. I thought of you every day."

Lina gave him a half smile. "I thought of you every day, too, at the beginning."

That phrase stung, even though Lucas had expected something like that. He waited for her to go on.

"Every time the phone rang, or the door bell, I hoped it would be you, but it never was," Lina said. "And I hated it! I hated waiting and not knowing and not being able to find out! And after –"

She stopped suddenly and looked away. Taking a sip of coffee, Lucas waited for her to continue, but when she didn't, he prompted, "After what?"

Lina plucked at the arm of the chair, then sat up again abruptly and blurted out, "After the miscarriage. After I lost your baby."

Lucas almost dropped his cup. "What?"

"I had a miscarriage," she said, looking him directly in the eyes. "About two months after you … disappeared. I'd been looking forward so much to telling you that we were going to have a baby, and I kept waiting for news about you, but they couldn't even tell me if you were alive or dead!"

"Lina, I'm sorry." His mouth spoke those inadequate words again while his mind scrambled to process the information. He'd fathered a child. He'd been a father for a few short weeks, and he hadn't even known. A dull ache formed in his chest that the child hadn't been born and that he hadn't had the chance to try again. "I didn't know."

Lina gave him a quick, brittle smile. "No, of course not. How could you? I didn't even find out I was pregnant until after you left."

She took a big gulp of coffee and put the cup down shakily. "It hurt so much, Lucas. Not the miscarriage itself, not so much, but here, in my heart. I felt so bad! I hated you for not being there, and I hated myself for feeling that way. And at the same time, I was worried about you and what you might be going through, and I wished you were dead. I mean, I hoped for your sake that you were dead and not being tortured. I didn't want to think about them torturing you. I'd just lost a baby, your baby, a part of you, and it was a very emotional time for me. A very painful time. What I think I'm trying to say is, it hurt less if I convinced myself that you were dead."

Pain rolled over him, pain for himself, for feeling rejected, even temporarily, and pain for Lina, for all that she had had to go through alone. Then, almost instantly afterwards, all the anguish was washed away by sympathy and a surge of renewed love. Lucas leaned forward and reached across the table for her hand. "Lina, come here. It's all right."

Lina let him take her hand. "It's not all right. I failed you. I should have kept hoping, but I didn't."

"You just wanted the pain to stop," Lucas said, folding both of his hands around hers. He'd missed the feeling of her skin. "I understand that, Lina."

He heard her sharp intake of breath as she realized how he'd come by that understanding, and she said, "You must hate me."

"No," he said, giving her hand a firm squeeze. "I just wish I'd been there for you."

Lina smiled then, a little. "Oh, Lucas. I wanted to talk about you, but I end up babbling on and on about myself."

"I don't mind," he said, loosening his grip slightly so that he could stroke the back of her hand with his fingers. He thought back over what she'd said, and a question occurred to him. "Did you ever find out if it was a boy or a girl?"

Lina shook her head. "No. I dreamed that it was a girl, though. I would have named her Lucy because it sounds like Lucas, a bit."

"Lucy is a good name," Lucas said, even as sadness washed over him for the girl that would never be.

"I dreamed of her a few times that first year," Lina said, her face softening as she remembered. "Funny, though, I haven't thought of her in ages, but seeing you to-day brought it all back."

"I'm sorry to bring up bad memories," Lucas said, still stroking her hand. He longed to hug her, and had to remind himself that they were divorced. It wouldn't be appropriate. As though stepping voluntarily under a cold shower, he asked, "So, how did you meet Nick?"

"No, no, I've spoken enough now," Lina said, turning her hand in his so that she could grip his fingers and give them a friendly squeeze. "I don't want to hurt you anymore. Tell me when you got back to England."

"On the third," Lucas said.

"Go on," Lina urged. "How did you get out?"

"Harry said that the Russians contacted him and he helped to negotiate a trade," Lucas reported. "I don't know all the details."

"And even if you knew, you wouldn't be allowed to tell me," Lina stated. "I remember what it was like, all the secrecy."

She pulled her hand away gently and reached with forced nonchalance for her coffee cup. After she'd drank, she put it down. "Where are you staying now?"

"In a safe house at the moment, but I'm moving into a flat in Nunhead soon," Lucas reported. "I'm supposed to be out shopping, too, but I wanted to see you."

They smiled at each other, a gentle moment that was interrupted by a melodious chiming sound.

"Blast," Lina said in English, a word she'd once told Lucas she'd learned from watching _All Creatures Great and Small_. Watching her stand up and stalk into the hall, Lucas took a larger bite of biscuit and washed it down with the coffee. The low rumble of conversation from the front door suddenly became louder and he heard Lina cry out.

Alarmed, Lucas sprang up, but hadn't even taken two steps when Lina entered the living room again. Her face had turned white with fear and horror, and she was trembling; she held her hands up in the universal gesture of surrender, and there was a man walking directly behind her. As they came in, Lucas saw why Lina looked so frightened. She'd developed a phobia about injuring her back yet again after having had to retire from world-class gymnastics just short of a broken vertebra, and now Lucas could see that the man behind her had jammed a pistol into her spine. Feeling a sickening sense of dread radiate throughout his body, Lucas slowly raised his hands, even before he saw the second man, who was also holding a gun.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

"Who's this?" the first man demanded, speaking Russian. He was short and stocky with brown hair and a nose that had obviously been broken more than once.

"A friend," Lina said, then repeated it in English. "He's a friend."

The second man, who was blond, a little taller and a little skinnier than the other, asked in accented English, "Do _you_ know where Gennady Mikhailovich is?"

Lucas had never heard that name before. "Who? No."

"Then shut up and don't move."

In Russian, the brown-haired man told his friend to get a chair from the kitchen. Lina gasped, "What are you going to do?" but both ignored her.

Lucas kept his hands up and his face expressionless, pretending not to understand. He watched closely, however, hoping for a weakness or a moment of inattention on the part of the man guarding Lina. There was none. The blond man returned with not one, but two high-backed chairs, and the brown-haired man guided Lina to sit in one of them. Moving the barrel of the gun from her spine to her head, he stepped to one side, and the blond fished a roll of twine from his jacket pocket to tie Lina to the chair. He did each arm separately without hesitating, threading the twine around the back leg of the chair and then pulling it up to tie it tightly around her wrist before knotting it over the back of her hand and cutting the ends short with a pocketknife. Even while Lucas was gritting his teeth, recognizing that he couldn't do anything without endangering Lina, he was also thinking that the men were well-practiced in this kind of thing.

The blond man straightened up, grabbed the second chair, and arranged it so that it faced Lina, then spoke to Lucas. "You. Sit here."

Ignoring the fear that was rapidly spreading through his body, trying hard to concentrate on anything else that could potentially help him in this situation, Lucas sat down on the chair and did not resist as the blond man tied his wrists in exactly the same way as Lina's.

"Who are you?" Lucas asked in English. "What's going on, what do you want?"

Finishing with his hands, the blond man came around in front and hit Lucas in the face. "I told you to shut up!"

"Stop!" Lina shrieked, reverting to Russian. "You don't have to do this! I already told you, I don't know any Gennady Mikhailovich!"

"You are," the brown-haired man stated, "incredibly stupid, denying that you know him when there's a picture of you and him right there on that wall!"

He pointed in the direction of the photo that Lucas had noticed earlier, but Lina only sounded more confused when she answered. "What? That is my husband, Nick Barnes!"

The brown-haired man lifted his arm. Hearing the dull thud of fist meeting flesh and Lina's cry of pain, Lucas winced. Now that the men both had their attention focused on Lina, he flexed his hands. His fingertips brushed the twine wrapped around the chair leg, but he could not reach the knots.

"Where is he?" the man demanded.

"I don't know," Lina bawled. The man hit her again and asked the same question, but instead of answering, Lina only sobbed. Listening to her sounds of pain, Lucas felt as though a giant hand had reached inside his chest to twist his heart.

"Stop it!" Lucas called out in English. "She obviously doesn't know what you're asking!"

The brown-haired man turned around and gazed malevolently down at him, then flicked his hand at the blond man.

"Shut up!" the blond man shouted, and hit him again, this time hard enough to knock him woozy. By the time Lucas could think clearly again, the two men had gone back to Lina and in between the blows, he could hear the brown-haired man calling her a liar. Lina could barely speak for sobbing, but kept trying to say the same words over and over. "I don't know. I don't know!"

At last, the brown-haired man stepped back and to one side so that Lucas and Lina could see each other. There was blood running from Lina's nose and the corner of her mouth, and he could see bruises starting to form on the left hand side of her face. Lucas felt sick with worry.

"You say this is a friend?" the brown-haired man asked, coming around behind Lucas and placing one hand on his shoulder. Lucas tried not to shudder at his touch, and watched Lina nod.

"Just a friend," she gasped.

"A good friend?" the brown-haired man went on.

Lucas held his breath, wondering what Lina would say. She glanced at him, then looked away and shook her head. "I haven't … seen him … for years."

"So you wouldn't care if we shot him?" the man asked. Lina stopped sobbing and her eyes went wide with horror. A moment later, Lucas felt something small and hard at the back of his head, and a cold chill ran down his spine. If Lina said no, then they wouldn't hesitate to kill him, but if she said yes, they would probably torture him to get to her. The thought of torture filled his mouth with the sickening metallic taste of fear, but he also didn't want to die knowing that Lina had forgotten all the love she'd once had for him.

"Don't – don't shoot," Lina finally gasped, and Lucas felt equal parts of relief and dread flow through him.

"You like him?" the brown-haired man teased. "Maybe he's not a friend, maybe he's your lover?"

Lina shook her head at the insinuation. "I'm telling the truth! I haven't seen him for years! He's just an old friend, but shooting him won't help, because I can't tell you what I don't know!"

"Right. We won't shoot him," the brown-haired man said, taking the gun away. He came out from behind Lucas and squatted down in front of Lina so that he was at her eye level. "But you already lied about not knowing Gennady Mikhailovich, and I think you're still lying about not knowing where he is."

Pretending not to understand, Lucas fumbled for the twine again, rolling it between his finger and thumb. Twine was made up of many little fibers twisted together, and he supposed he could break them one by one until he'd worked his way through. He tried to pinch the twine with his fingernails and separate the strands.

"I'm not lying," Lina said through gritted teeth. "Maybe your Gennady Mikhailovich looks exactly the same as my husband! It doesn't mean they are the same man!"

"If they're not the same man, then how did we find out about you?" the brown-haired man asked. "He had pictures of you in his flat, and all the information we needed, too, Kapitolina Sergeevna Zelenskaya, born on the 16th of May 1975, in Novgorod!"

Lina was silent, but Lucas could imagine that she was just as confused as he was. The brown-haired man straightened up. "Tell us where he is, and tell the truth this time."

Lucas kept his head up, glancing alternately from one man to the other, but continued to work on the twine.

"I'm telling you the truth! I don't know where he is! He didn't come home last night and I haven't been able to reach him!" she protested.

"Are you used to lying about the men in your life?" the brown-haired man sneered. "Are you going to lie to protect your lover?"

"What lover?" Lina murmured, and the brown-haired man indicated Lucas. Lina shook her head. "He's not my lover. He's just a friend! He's been away for eight years, he just stopped by to say hello!"

Now that the man's attention was fixed firmly on him, Lucas let go of the twine, and hoped fervently that Lina was indeed lying to protect him. The blond man knelt down at his side, pulling out the twine and the pocketknife again, and tied Lucas' legs to the legs of the chair. Then he grabbed the chair from behind, tilted it onto its two back legs, spun it around so that Lucas was facing away from Lina, and simply let go. Lucas slammed into the floor, banging his head hard despite the carpet, and Lina screamed. Staring up at her, Lucas sent her a silent message to be brave, despite his own fear, and was disheartened when she glanced away.

"What are you doing?" Lina demanded as the blond man began tying her legs to the legs of her chair. Without answering, the man finished, stood up, then turned her chair around and let it drop as well. Lina screamed a second time as she fell, and again as the blond man knelt down next to her. Lucas couldn't quite see what he was doing, but he heard him tell the brown-haired man to hold her before he got up and moved over to Lucas.

"Let me go!" Lina protested as the blond man knelt down and sliced through the twine holding Lucas' right hand to the chair. "I'm not lying, I swear it!"

Deciding it wouldn't be giving anything away if he struggled, Lucas fought back, but the man brought his fist down directly in Lucas' eye. Hovering on the brink of unconsciousness for a moment, Lucas was unable to resist as the man stretched his arm out full length above his head and tethered his wrist to Lina's. There was a good six inches of twine between his hand and Lina's, and Lucas thought he could make use of that much slack. But then the brown-haired man put one foot on the twine, and the other foot on Lucas' hand, grinding his fingers into the carpet. Trying not to wince visibly, and certain now that the two Russians had done this kind of thing before, Lucas watched as the blond man got up and selected two of the smaller stuffed animals from the back of the couch. Kneeling down, he wedged one of the toys under Lucas's wrist, and the other under his elbow, so that his arm was an inch or two off the floor.

"Wh—what are you doing?" Lina asked, her voice shaking with fear.

"Hey." The blond man grabbed Lucas by the chin and leaned very close to him. In English, he said, "You tell your lover to tell us the truth or we will break your arm."

He let go of Lucas and waited expectantly. Trying to keep from trembling, Lucas twisted his head around to where he could see Lina watching, horrified, and said simply, "Lina …"

"I'm telling the truth!" Lina exclaimed before Lucas could say any more. "I don't know anything about Gennady Mikhailovich!"

The blond man heaved an overly dramatic sigh and stood up. The brown-haired man stared down at Lina and told her, "Watch closely, because we'll be doing this to you next."

In the hands of the Russians, Lucas had practiced focusing his gaze on a neutral spot, away from the men tormenting him, and thinking, or trying to think, of something pleasant, such as lying in bed on a sunny Sunday morning with his wife. Daydreaming of Lina was no longer an option now, though, not with the picture in his mind's eye of her tied up, bleeding and screaming. And the torture would be worse this time, he knew, because he wasn't the one being interrogated. He wouldn't be able to make them stop by offering them information. It was all up to Lina, and Lucas was certain she was telling the truth about not knowing what the men were talking about.

The blond man broke his arm by jumping on it. When Lucas and Lina had both stopped screaming, the brown-haired man stepped away from the twine and nudged Lina in the head with his shoe. "If you don't want your arm broken the same way, then tell us now where your husband is!"

"I don't know!" Lina shrieked. "Nick didn't come home last night! I haven't been able to reach him on his mobile! I don't _know_ where he is!"

The blond took the stuffed animals out from under Lucas' arm, making him groan at the torment caused by the movement, and positioned them under Lina's. This time, the brown-haired man did not step on the twine, and when he spoke, Lucas realized why. "Don't move your arm, or you'll hurt your lover more than yourself."

"No," Lina sobbed. "No, no, no!"

The blond man jumped. Lucas had expected Lina to yank her arm away instinctively, and braced himself for the pain to come, but to his great surprise, she didn't. Her screams were high and loud with agony and terror, and when she could form words again, she cried over and over, "I don't _know,_ I don't _know_!"

"You're still not going to tell us?" the brown-haired man taunted her.

"Please stop, I don't know!" Lina sobbed. "Please stop, just stop, please!"

"Next arm," the brown-haired man said, and Lina howled even louder. "No, no, please stop, I can't tell you what I don't know, stop!"

When the blond man knelt down to cut Lucas' left hand free, Lucas spoke to him in English. "Whatever it is you're asking her, she doesn't know!"

"Shut up!" the man told him, slicing through the twine. In one quick motion, he grabbed Lucas' wrist with one hand and used his other hand to jab the point of the knife into Lucas' palm, giving him a silent warning as to what would happen if Lucas fought back. Lucas offered only a token resistance as the man pulled his arm into position and tied it to Lina's.

"No, no, no!" Lina repeated, but the blond man broke Lucas' other arm anyway. He was just getting ready to go for Lina again when an unexpected electronic chirping sounded from the jacket of the brown-haired man. Surprised, the man reached into his pocket and produced his mobile phone, checking the identity of the caller before opening the conversation.

"Yeah," he said, and then, "All right, we're coming."

He hung up and said, "Five alert. We have to go."

"What about them?" the blond asked, looking down and pulling his gun out of the waistband of his jeans.

"We leave them," the brown-haired man said. "As a warning."

Leaning down, he grabbed Lina by the chin and said, "If you see your husband before we do, tell him not to disappear like that again, especially not when he's got our money."

Lina made a frightened little noise of assent, and the men went out.

Xxxxx

Thank you for all your reviews. DDSylvester, I'm glad you think my Lucas North is quite real. I'm sure he's going to be very different from the "official" version, but we won't know until October, will we? You think he's deeper than Adam Carter? Thank you! Bostonchickadee, I'm glad you think Lina is well-developed and that my writing is skillful. I'm even more glad that you're going to keep reading! Leakybiro, thank you for reading, too. There does seem to be an awful lot of Ruth/Harry stories on the board, but I'm sure that will change in October when Richard Armitage hits the screen. I hope so, anyway, and I hope you all enjoy the next parts of the fic.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Lucas waited until he heard the front door shut, then asked, "Lina?"

Lina cried inarticulately for several minutes. Ignoring the pain throbbing through his arms, Lucas kept telling her, "Shh, shh, it's all right, it's over. They're gone now." Eventually, she managed to speak again, and sobbed, "I'm so sorry!"

"It's not your fault," Lucas said, but Lina said, "Lucas, this is like what they did to you in Russia, isn't it?"

She hardly gave him a chance to answer, and Lucas was glad as she continued, "I'm so sorry! I don't know why they didn't believe me, but I was telling them the truth! I didn't want you to have to go through something like that again!" She swallowed down a sob. "How did you stand it?"

Lucas ignored that question and said, "We need to get out of here."

"How?" Lina asked, her voice still shaky.

"If you could reach my hand, you could rub this twine against my watchband until it's worn through."

He heard Lina stretch and then fall back. "It's too far! I can't reach!"

Lucas thought for a moment, then said, "Can you roll onto your side?"

Lina must have moved her arm wrong, because she gasped. "It hurts! And I'll hurt you!"

"I know it will hurt," Lucas said, "but it's our only chance. We'll do it at the same time, all right? You go to your right, I'll go to my left, and then we'll use our feet to push ourselves together. Ready? One, two, three."

On three, both of them shrieking at the agony that the movement produced, they flung themselves onto their sides. Although Lina made it, Lucas didn't; his chair teetered for a moment, then fell back, whipping his injured arms around with him. He finished screaming and lay there panting for a moment. When he could speak normally again, he said, "Now see if you can push yourself towards me."

Lina needed several tries, but finally managed to use her foot and the elbow of her good arm to inchworm her way across the carpet until she was able to grip his hand. Holding back a cry of pain, Lucas clasped her fingers weakly, then let go. Lina picked up the loose part of the twine and began to scour it against Lucas' metal watchband. At length, she developed the technique of fitting the twine between two of the little metal bars and pulling on it, using the corner of one bar as a substitute knife edge. "Does this hurt you too much?"

"It's fine," Lucas lied, trying not to grunt each time her tugs sent pain shooting up his arm. Instead, he found himself counting them under his breath, and adding his wife's name just as he'd done when he was in the Russian prison. _Twenty one Kapitolina. Twenty two Kapitolina._ Bit by bit, the twine gave way.

"Got it!" Lina finally exclaimed, then moved on to the piece of twine holding their other arms together. It separated at long last as well. Bending at the waist, Lina reached behind her and wrestled the chair away, sliding its legs up her own until she'd pulled them out of the bindings and freed herself. Holding her injured arm close to her body, she crawled over to Lucas and began to pick at the knot holding his left leg.

"Lina, get my mobile," Lucas told her, but when she continued to work on the twine, he shouted, "Now!"

Startled, frightened, and a little angry at the harsh tone of his voice, she let go and looked at him reproachfully.

"Get my mobile and call Harry," he said, more gently. "It's in my coat, in the inside pocket."

Harry Pearce wasn't just a friend, or a colleague, he was head of the counter-terrorism department at MI-5, and would want to know about disappearing Russians who might or might not be in the mafia. Lina stood up and stumbled into the hall, then returned with his coat, spread it out on the easy chair, and fumbled for the phone. She pushed it open with her chin, then looked at Lucas for further instructions.

"Harry Pearce," he told her. "It should be the first number."

Lina found it and pressed the button to dial.

"Bring it here," Lucas said. "Hold it for me." Belatedly, he remembered to add, "Please."

Harry answered on the third ring. "Hello, Lucas, you're calling to confess, aren't you? You've ditched your minder and gone to visit your ex-wife instead of going shopping like you were supposed to."

Lucas wasn't surprised that Harry knew what he had done. Harry had probably been waiting for Lucas to try something like that ever since he'd looked Lina up and given her address to Lucas a week ago, but now wasn't the time to talk about that. Instead, Lucas said, "Harry, listen. We've been – attacked. There were two men here who claimed that her husband was a man named Gennady Mikhailovich, and—"

"Wait a minute," Harry said. "Gennady Mikhailovich Chtgheglovski?"

He tripped over the unfamiliar combination of consonants.

"They didn't say Chtgheglovski –" Lucas said, but stopped when Lina pulled the phone away and pressed it to her own ear.

"Harry, please help us," she said, then burst into tears yet again. Sobbing, she continued to speak. "There were men here … and they tortured us … I've never heard of Gennady Mikhailovich … they said it was my husband, but that's not his name … you've got to help us … they've broken my arm … they've broken Lucas' arms, too, both of them!"

She listened for a moment, then shrieked suddenly, "I don't know that name! I don't _know_!"

Angrily, Lina pressed the button to disconnect. "That bloody man! He didn't even listen when I said we'd been tortured, all he can do is ask about that bloody Gennady Mikhailovich! I'm calling 999!"

After she'd finished talking to the dispatcher, Lina announced, "An ambulance is on the way."

Lucas didn't answer. Lina got up and went into the kitchen, then came back carrying a pair of kitchen shears. After she'd cut through the twine holding Lucas' legs to the chair, she sank down next to Lucas and began to sob again. Very slowly and carefully, Lucas moved his arms down to where he could hug them both to his chest, making little hissing sounds of pain. He rested for a long moment, counting his heartbeats and waiting for the agony to ebb back to a bearable level. After losing count sometime past five hundred Kapitolina, he rolled himself off the chair and onto his side on the carpet. His knees collided with Lina's, and she glanced miserably at him.

"I'm so sorry," she bawled again. "I would have told them if I'd known anything! I didn't want them to hurt you!"

"I know," Lucas said, wishing he could reach out and hug her.

"Why wouldn't they believe me when I said I didn't know?" Lina screeched. "If they'd kept on torturing us, they could have killed us! They _would _have killed us!"

That was true, but Lucas tried to comfort her by saying, "They would have stopped eventually."

"I was so scared," Lina said through her tears. "I thought I was going to pee my pants, I was so scared!"

"I was scared, too," Lucas admitted.

"You didn't sound scared," she scoffed. "You still don't. You're just like James Bond!"

"I'm shaking now," he said, and it was true; he was shivering. He felt cold and sweaty at the same time, and strangely tired. Lina reached out her good hand and laid it gently on his cheek. Turning his head slightly, Lucas kissed the base of her thumb, not caring whether it was appropriate or not. It was the only support he could give her. He could feel her hand trembling beneath his lips, and kissed it again, thinking _two Kapitolina_ to himself. Then he closed his eyes, trying to forget the pain, and concentrated only on her touch.

The melodious chiming of the doorbell woke him from a hazy daydreaming kind of doze, and Lina jerked upright in terror. "They're back!"

Lucas had been startled, too, but then a moment of common sense asserted itself, and he murmured, "I don't think they'd ring if they were."

The bell chimed again, then there was knocking, and Lucas could hear a muffled voice calling his name and Lina's. "It's Harry, it must be Harry."

Hauling herself to her feet, Lina went into the hall. Lucas heard the door open and a moment later, Harry came into the living room, asking, "You've already called an ambulance?"

"Yes," Lina snapped.

"Here, sit down," Harry said, indicating the armchair. He waited until Lina had sunk into it, curling protectively over her arm, then knelt down next to Lucas. "Are you all right?"

Lucas stared up at him, not knowing how to answer that, and finally settled for saying, "I'll live."

"What happened?"

"It's just like I told you on the phone," Lina answered for him. "These men came into my flat and tortured us!"

"They were asking you about a man named Gennady Mikhailovich," Harry prompted. "Did they say why they thought you knew about him?"

The doorbell chimed again and Lina said, "Ambulance." She started to get up, but Harry stopped her. "I'll go."

He returned with two paramedics, one of whom immediately knelt down and began to examine Lucas. Dodging the lamp that the man was trying to shine in his eyes, Lucas craned his neck and called, "Harry?"

Harry had picked up one of the chairs to take it back into the kitchen, but now he stopped. "Yes, Lucas."

"The picture on the wall." He flicked his eyes in the general direction, not wanting to look directly at the portrait. "That one of Lina and Nick Barnes. They said that was Gennady Mikhailovich."

Harry's face lit up. "Thank you, Lucas."

Satisfied that he'd told Harry the most important thing, Lucas lay back and let the paramedic carry on. He was vaguely aware of Harry asking Lina if he could take the photo, but he didn't hear her answer, as the man had finished with his head and was now probing his arms and asking how it had happened. Although the man was probably trying to be gentle, his touch made Lucas hiss in pain before he could answer. The paramedic gave Lucas an injection for the pain, pulling the waistband of his trousers down far enough so that he could administer it in Lucas' hip. Reaching for some splints from his bag, he then immobilized both of Lucas' arms and said, "My colleague's just getting the trolley. Can you sit up, or should we lift you on to it?"

Lucas managed, with the paramedic's help, to straighten up and collapse backwards onto the trolley. The paramedics arranged his legs, then covered him with a red blanket, which was delightfully warm and comforting. When Lucas realized that they were tightening straps across his legs, however, panic exploded through him and he struggled to sit up.

"Sir, what is it?" the woman paramedic asked. "Is something wrong?"

They didn't hold him down, and as Lucas finished wrestling himself upright, he realized he'd been expecting exactly that. Hunched over, breathing against the pain, he finally managed to say, "I can walk. I'll walk outside – and Harry can drive me to the hospital."

One part of his mind was telling him that his reaction was both silly and unnecessary; they were paramedics, here to help and not hurt him. But the other part of his mind, the one that was frightened and panicked, was still in control. Lucas shuffled his legs, trying to pull them out from under the strap and the blanket at the same time, and jumped as someone laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Lucas," Harry said. "It's all right. They're not tying you down. These aren't restraints."

He made a motion to the paramedics, and the woman hastily undid the strap.

"Absolutely right," she assured him. "We're not tying you up. We've got to take the trolley down the stairs and we just wanted to make sure you don't slide off on the way, that's all."

"Can you do it without the straps?" Harry asked, and the man shook his head doubtfully. "I wouldn't like to try it. It's a bit steep."

"All right, then, let him walk," Harry said, and reached out a hand. "Come on, Lucas, I'll help you."

His panic had receded rapidly once the strap was undone, and now Lucas felt hot shame flooding through him. Why was he reacting like this _now_, why not earlier, when the men had tied him to the chair, or when they'd tied his wrists to Lina's and broken his arms? How could he react like a properly trained agent one minute, and then fall apart the next, when the crisis was over and he was safe? Not looking at Harry, he took a deep breath, then said, "No, it's all right. I can m-manage."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

Lucas nodded and even forced himself to lay down again, but his heart was pounding in his chest as the paramedics tucked the blanket around him. When they pulled the straps over his legs and his upper arms, he began to tremble, and the woman gave him an encouraging smile. "We can take them off again once we're down the stairs, all right? Just two minutes."

To Harry, she said, "It's a perfectly understandable reaction after a violent crime like this."

Harry didn't answer, but Lucas thought that his expression said, _If you only knew_.

The stairs were steep, and the rational part of Lucas' mind was glad for the straps as they went down, even though he knew the chances of him sliding off the trolley and landing in a broken heap at the bottom were actually very slim. To his relief, the paramedics kept their word, undoing the straps as soon as they were on level ground again.

The woman paramedic went back for Lina, putting her in the front of the ambulance, and then they drove to the nearest hospital. After a whirl of examinations and X-rays, the doctor deadened the nerves in Lucas' arms and fitted him with casts that stretched from the middle of his hands up to his elbows.

"I'd like you to stay overnight for observation," the doctor told him. "I'll just call upstairs for them to prepare a bed on the ward."

The painkiller had made Lucas lightheaded and sleepy, but the thought of not being allowed to leave, of being forcibly separated from everything that was familiar to him, woke him up as effectively as cold water. He shook his head. "No. I'm not staying."

"You've had quite a few hard blows to the head," the doctor pointed out. "It really would be better."

"No," Lucas repeated, wrestling his way off the examination trolley. "I'm not staying."

"Is there someone who can be with you and check on you every so often?"

"Yes," Lucas said as he walked to the door and opened it. Harry was strolling down the corridor as though pacing, and Lucas called out to him. "Harry. Harry, I'm not staying here."

Harry turned around, then looked beyond him to the doctor. "It's all right, we'll take care of him."

"Right, then," the doctor said. "Come back in a week, Mr North. Once the healing process is well underway, we can give you some special splints to wear that you can take off for a short time each day, for baths and such."

To Harry, he said, "Watch him, make sure he remains lucid. If he becomes confused, or if he falls asleep and you can't wake him, or if you see any change in his pupils, bring him back immediately."

"We will," Harry said.

The doctor nodded and walked away, and Lucas looked up at Harry. "Have you seen Lina?"

"Yes, she's down here," Harry said. Lucas followed him to the waiting area where Lina was sitting, wearing a cast on her left arm that was identical to Lucas'.

"Lucas," she said as soon as she saw him. "Are you all right? Are they letting you go? I thought they'd insist on you staying here."

"No, I'm fine," Lucas said. "How are you doing?"

"I'm – all right," Lina replied.

"Lina, are you feeling well enough to answer a few questions?" Harry asked, and Lina frowned at him.

"You don't care that we've just been tortured! All you want to know is about that bloody Gennady Mikhailovich!"

"I do care," Harry protested, but Lina cut him off.

"Go away," she said tiredly. "I don't want to talk to you. I'm going to call a taxi and go –" She didn't say 'home.'

Harry hesitated a minute, then said, "Lina, I know something about Gennady Mikhailovich, and if you can answer some of our questions, we might be able to find the men who did this to you. Can you help us?"

Lina hesitated, and Lucas urged, "Lina, please? I want to find them, too, for hurting you."

Sighing, Lina gave in. "All right, but only because you asked, Lucas."

Harry said, "Right. Let's go somewhere private where we can talk."

Xxxxx

Thank you all for reading. DDSylvester, you'll have to wait a bit to find out what Nick Barnes has been up to. I hope it's not a let-down. Bostonchickadee, I thought I had written some indications of Lina's worry into the first part of the story, where she walks out of the house with her head down in an unaccustomedly cheerless way, and where she's talking about Nick not eating all the Hob Nobs before he left and how her voice starts out brightly but then ends up worried. But you're right that there aren't any more references to it once she really gets talking to Lucas, and for that I do apologize. As for the torture, I tried to write it so that it was suspenseful, but not gratuitous. I hope it wasn't too much for you. Thanks again for all the praise. Leakybiro, we are indeed talking Russian gangsters here, so thank you for your enthusiastic support and stay tuned for more!


	4. Chapter 4

Part 44

At Thames House, instead of leading them straight to the interrogation rooms, furnished only with metal chairs and tables, as Lucas had expected, Harry brought them up to the third floor and ushered them into one of the comfortable waiting rooms there. Lina seated herself stiffly on the couch, and Lucas sat down next to her while Harry picked up the inhouse phone and dialed. "Adam? Can you come up to room three oh six?"

Apparently, Adam could, because Harry put the phone down and looked at Lina.

"All right," Lina said before Harry could speak. "What do you know about this Gennady Mikhailovich?"

Harry smiled disarmingly. "Let me start by asking you a few questions about your husband."

It was still strange, and painful as well, for Lucas to hear somebody asking Lina about her husband and to know that somebody else was meant, not him.

Lina shook her head. "Oh, no. You first."

"All right," Harry said. "Gennady Mikhailovich Chtgheglovski was a member of a cell of the Russian Mafia which specializes in selling weapons from Soviet stockpiles. MI-5 has been monitoring a group of Chechen separatists based here in England, and when they met Chtgheglovksi yesterday to complete a certain sale, we raided them. Chtgheglovski was found dead after the raid – we think he killed himself to avoid capture. Now. If the other members of his cell were expecting money, and Chtgheglovski disappeared without giving it to them, they'd probably think he'd done a runner, and start looking for him."

"That can't be my husband," Lina stated. She was interrupted by a knock on the door, and the entrance of Adam.

"Hello, Harry, Lucas," Adam said, and even nodded to Lina.

"Adam, here, can you send this through the facial recognition software?" Harry asked, pulled the portrait of Lina and Nick out from under his coat and handing to him.

"Hey!" Lina exclaimed. "I didn't say you could take that!"

"And send us up some coffee and things," Harry added, ignoring the outburst. Adam took the picture and said, "Right," then went out again.

"You'll have it back in just a few minutes," Harry said. "Now, you were telling us about your husband. What was his name again?"

"Nick Barnes. Nicholas," Lina said. "And I was saying that he is not a member of the Russian Mafia. He doesn't sell weapons! He's an engineer, he works with lasers!"

"How long have you known Nick?" Harry asked.

"About four and a half years."

"And you married him … when?"

"On the 25th of November, 2004."

Lucas did some arithmetic and came to the conclusion that Lina must have married Nick almost as soon as her divorce from him had been finalized. The realization tormented him as much as any torture ever had.

"And where does he work?" Harry went on.

"Clipstone Lasers, in Ealing."

"Clipstone Lasers," Harry repeated. "Have you ever been there?"

"No," Lina retorted, "and he's never come to my office, either."

"Do you still work at Powell, Hunt and Powell?" Lucas asked, curious. They were a firm of lawyers that specialized in European law, and Lina had been their Russian consultant when he'd left.

"Yes," Lina said. "I thought about leaving, after I – after the – but I didn't."

Someone knocked, then opened the door. A young woman came in with a tea trolley and positioned it by the table, then went out again. Harry poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Lina, who immediately took a large sip.

"Does your husband come home at the same time every day?" Harry went on, pouring a second cup. Holding it out to Lucas, he waited until he was sure that Lucas wouldn't drop it before letting go. Lucas had never realized before just how difficult life could be with both thumbs immobilized, but managed to get the cup to his mouth anyway.

"No," Lina said. "He comes home every night, but never at the same time."

She must be used to that by now, Lucas thought. It had been the same with him.

"And does he ever go on business trips?" Harry took the third cup for himself, then lifted a plate of biscuits from the trolley and placed it in the middle of the table.

"He goes quite often to their associate company in Germany," Lina said.

Lucas took a sip of coffee and counted one Kapitolina, then remembered he was supposed to be trying to get over that habit, and winced mentally.

"Where in Germany?"

"Close to Frankfurt. I forget the name." Lina put her coffee cup down. Lucas pushed the plate of biscuits invitingly over to her side, but she shook her head. He took one for himself and crammed the whole thing into his mouth at once so there wouldn't be any bites to count.

"Does he ever bring you anything that would prove he's been in Germany?" Harry went on.

"Once he brought me a teddy bear. It has a little button in its ear. And some wine, occasionally. What do you mean, prove he's been there? Why are you asking me these stupid questions?" Lina demanded.

"I'm indulging my curiosity as to whether Nick Barnes theoretically has the time to be Chtgheglovski," Harry admitted, and Lina made a sound of outrage. Harry went on. "If you'd said, for instance, that he came home at the same time every night and watched telly with you every evening, and never went on any business trips, I might be convinced. But as it is, even you have to admit that it is theoretically possible."

Lina picked up her coffee cup again, gripping it in a way that suggested she wanted to dash it in Harry's face. Lucas awkwardly placed his fingers on her leg in a gesture meant to show support, but she merely glanced sideways at him.

"And then there are the men that came and tortured you," Harry explained. "If Nick Barnes is not Chtgheglovski, why did they come to you?"

Lina had no answer for that, and glanced away, but Lucas said, "They said that they found information about Lina in Gennady Mikhailovich's flat."

Lina shot him a glare full of hurt and betrayal.

"They knew your name, Lina," Lucas reminded her, hating himself for having to do it. "The name on your door says only Barnes, but they knew your full name, your birthday, and where you were born."

Lina shook her head in denial, but her face looked perilously close to tears.

"When was the last time you saw your husband?" Harry asked.

"Thursday," Lina said. "He was flying to Frankfurt and wanted to be back yesterday in the late afternoon or early evening, but he never came home."

"What time was the raid?" Lucas asked.

"Yesterday, at three p.m.," Harry replied.

"It can't be true," Lina whispered. "Nick is not a member of the Mafia, he is a good man!"

There was another knock, and then Adam came in, holding out the portrait. "Harry, this is a match for Chtgheglovski."

"No!" Lina shrieked, grabbing the frame from his hands. "No, it can't be true! It – maybe it's his long-lost twin? Or his doppelganger?"

She sounded desperate, and despite a fiery stab of jealousy that she should care so much for another man, Lucas wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and ease her pain.

"Have we still got the body in the morgue?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Adam replied, and Harry turned to Lina. "Does Nick have any scars or any other distinguishing marks?"

Lina nodded slowly. "He has a burn scar on the inside of his left hand. When he was a child, he put his hand on a hot iron."

"Would you like to come down to the morgue and see if the body we have is your husband's?"

For a moment, Lina hesitated, looking faintly ill, then nodded. "I suppose I have to, don't I?"

They all stood up, and Lucas noticed that Lina placed the portrait on the table. Harry said, "By the way, when is Nick's birthday?"

"To-morrow," Lina said. "The 23nd of December, 1972."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, but he was already turning to Adam. "See what you can find out on a Nicholas Barnes – do you know where he was born, Lina?"

"Colchester," Lina answered. "At least, that's what he told me."

"I'm on it," Adam said, and went out. They followed him more slowly, and just missed getting in the same lift. As they stood, waiting, Lucas reached out and used two of his fingers to grip two of Lina's. She smiled bravely up at him, and though the smile soon faded, she didn't let go.

Xxxxx

Thanks for reviewing, leakybiro. There's only one more chapter after this one, I'm afraid.

And thank you, DDSylvester. I'm so glad that you're hooked and that you like Lucas. :D

I'm working on another Spooks fic with Lucas, but I don't know when it will be finished. I hope you'll both be there when it is, though.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

As they waited outside the morgue for Harry to arrange things, Lucas asked quietly, "Lina, are you sure you're up to this?"

"I have to know," she said, and tightened her fingers around his as Harry opened the door and motioned for them to come in.

The body was completely covered by a white sheet, with only part of the face revealed. Watching Lina as she gazed steadily at it, Lucas saw tears form in her eyes. Then she whispered, "And his hand?"

Harry brought it carefully out from under the sheet and turned it so that the palm was visible, with its irregular folds of scar tissue. Lina gasped, then crumpled so suddenly that Lucas didn't have the chance to catch her before she'd banged her head on the edge of the trolley and fallen awkwardly at his feet. Alarmed, Lucas went down on one knee and attempted to scoop her up, but then Harry was there, pushing his hands away.

"Don't, you'll hurt yourself even more," Harry said "I'll get her."

He pulled Lina into his arms and straightened up. "Can you ring for the lift, Lucas?"

Wiggling his fingers to remind Harry that he wasn't completely incapacitated, Lucas pressed the button. At least he could do that much, but he still wished that he were the one who was holding Lina, and not Harry. It took a minute for the lift to arrive, and Harry asked conversationally, "Why do you think they broke both of your arms, but only one of Lina's?"

"They were going to do more. They got a telephone call," Lucas remembered. "They said they had to go … wait. They said, 'Five alert.' Just like that. 'Five alert. We have to go.'"

"That's an interesting phrase."

"Maybe they meant MI-5 alert," Lucas mused. "They could be on to you, Harry."

Harry smiled briefly. "And we could be on to them now, thanks to this. We've had very little personal information on Chtgheglovski before now, and no knowledge of his identity as Nick Barnes."

They had reached the third floor by then, and Lina's eyelids were starting to flutter. In the waiting room, Harry pushed the coffee table away with one leg, then settled her on the couch and stepped back.

Kneeling down, Lucas reached up and smoothed Lina's hair away from her face. She opened her eyes, then shut them again.

"Lina?" he asked. Eventually, her eyes opened again and she managed to focus on him.

"What—?" she asked.

"You fainted," he told her. Lina glanced around, looked at Harry, then looked away again. She didn't cry, and somehow, that was worse for Lucas than if she'd burst into tears.

There were no words that he could say to a woman who'd not only lost a husband but had also discovered that the husband wasn't who she'd thought he was. Lucas could only try to comfort her by showing her she wasn't alone, that he was there, and that he cared. Unable to hug her properly, he had to settle for running his fingers down her arm. His skin ached for more contact with her, but she twitched away and sat up.

"I want to go home, but it doesn't seem like home anymore," she said, her voice quiet and curiously devoid of emotion. "And what if it's not safe there? What if they come back?"

"You should stay somewhere else to-night," Lucas said, getting off his knees and sitting down on the couch next to her. His mind raced ahead, imagining what would happen if the two men did come back, unlikely though it was. Lina would tell them that her husband was dead, they'd find out that she'd been in contact with MI-5, and that would be enough for them to kill her. "Harry—"

Before he could finish the sentence, however, the phone rang. Harry picked it up, said, "Yes," and listened for several moments, then said a word of thanks before hanging up again.

"It seems there are two Nicholas Barnes," he said. "Both were born on the 23rd of December, 1972, in Colchester, both have the same parents, and both, curiously enough, share the same NHS number. One is currently living in Saudi Arabia and has been for several years, working as an engineer in laser technology. The other –"

He didn't complete the sentence. He didn't have to. Instead, he said simply, "I'm sorry."

Lina didn't respond. Harry waited a moment, then said, "Lina, with your permission, I'd like to have my team go over your flat, to see if they can find anything that can help lead us to the other members of his Mafia cell."

Lina made a dispirited gesture with one hand. "If I say no, you'll do it anyway. Go ahead. I don't care."

"I think Lina's had enough for one day," Lucas broke in. "No more talk about Nick, or anything else. Lina, you're coming back to the safe house with me, you'll stay there to-night, and then we'll see what the situation is to-morrow. I'll call Tim—"

He stopped, then looked at Harry in chagrin. "I left my mobile in Lina's flat."

"I'll call the safe house," Harry said. "I was going to suggest one for Lina anyway, not necessarily yours, but why not? You can wait here until Tim comes."

He stood up and walked to the door, then stopped and said again,"Lina, I'm sorry."

Lina ignored him, and Harry went out. They sat there in silence after he'd gone, with Lina staring off into space, and Lucas watching her. Eventually, the door opened and Tim came in. He was a young agent at MI-5 and had been given the low-priority task of minding Lucas while he got used to the world again after years in prison.

"So, Lucas, I guess you lost the arm-wrestling competition then, huh?" he said with a grin. Lucas managed a weak smile in return. Lina didn't react.

"Lina, this is Tim Forster, he's going to take us to the safe house," Lucas told her.

Lina gave Tim a quick look and an unenthusiastic, "Hi."

"Tim, this is Lina. My ex-wife."

"Hi, Lina, pleased to meet you." Tim turned back to Lucas, and although Lucas knew that Tim could see the bruises that had come out on Lina's face, the man smiled and said, "She's a beauty. I can see why you chose her."

Lucas waited for Lina to come back with the retort of "I chose him!" that he'd heard so often in the years of their marriage, but she didn't say anything. Finally, Lucas answered simply, "Yes."

"Ready to go? Joan's got your favourite, fish and chips." It was a joke between them now, but Lucas grimaced at the thought. After his first encounter with the typical British meal since his return, he wasn't able to stand so much as the smell anymore. Thankfully, Tim grinned. "No, it's lasagne, really."

That was a more appetitzing statement, and Lucas realized he hadn't eaten all day. "That sounds good. Are you hungry, Lina?"

She shook her head and stood up.

"Don't forget the picture," Lucas said, reaching for the portrait on the table, but Lina said, "I don't want it."

Perversely pleased, Lucas left it where it was.

At the safe house, Lucas introduced Lina to Joan, the housekeeper, and they sat down to lasagne, salad, and garlic bread. By then, the numbing agent had worn off, and Lucas could feel a sharp ache in his arm each time he raised a forkful of food to his mouth. At least Lina had full use of one hand, he thought, then realized she wasn't using it for more than the occasional poke at her lasagne.

"You're not eating," Joan said bluntly. "Is there something wrong with it?"

Lina blinked and looked down as though seeing her plate for the first time. "No. It's fine. I'm not hungry."

Lucas frowned, remembering that Lina had often had trouble eating when she felt stressed. She'd always claimed she was fine without food, but it had never stopped him from worrying. Although he wanted to say something, Lucas stopped himself. She'd had a horrific day, to put it mildly, and nagging was probably the last thing she needed now. He'd watch her to-morrow and force her to eat then, if necessary.

Immediately after supper, Lina went up to the bedroom that had been assigned to her. Lucas followed soon after, feeling uncharacteristically exhausted. He'd changed into his pyjamas and had just come out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth when he saw Lina's door open a crack. He stopped and looked at it expectantly.

"I thought I would fall right to sleep, but I can't," Lina said dully, opening the door wider. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he said, walking across the hall. Lina was wearing one of Tim's shirts that fell to just below her hips, exposing her legs, and Lucas couldn't help staring in appreciation. Wordlessly inviting him into the room, Lina shut the door behind him, then stood in front of it, biting her lip and looking down at the floor. Lucas waited, and after a moment, Lina asked, "Could you do something for me?"

"Anything," Lucas assured her, looking into her face.

"Even though we're divorced and I was in love with another man until yesterday?" she asked. Her voice was so dull that it sounded like she was reading a line from a page without thinking of what she was saying.

"Anything, Lina," he repeated.

"Could you hug me? I just want to be held."

Lucas understood exactly how she felt; he wanted a hug, too. And in hugging, giving was almost the same as receiving. "Sure."

He came closer and awkwardly put his arms around her, squeezing gently and hoping that he wasn't actually digging his casts into her back and making her uncomfortable. At first, she snuggled into his chest, and even snaked her good arm around his waist, but after a moment, she let go and said simply, "No."

The rejection stung, and Lucas let go immediately. Before he could offer to leave, however, Lina said, "Could you sit here at the head of the bed, and I'll lean back against you?"

Lucas sat where she'd indicated and tucked the pillow behind his back. Lina squeezed in between his legs, then leaned back against his chest and settled the duvet over both of them. Gently, Lucas folded his arms around her, but then their casts hit, grinding together, and Lina exclaimed softly in pain and frustration.

"Sorry." Lucas pulled his arms out from under the warm duvet and hugged her from the outside instead. "Is that better?"

"Yes." After a long moment, Lina said flatly, "I loved him. I thought he loved me, too. How could he lie to me like that?"

Lucas had been thinking about Nick Barnes after supper, unable to reconcile the man's behaviour with what he knew of the mafia. He'd been forced to consider some very far-fetched theories, and now he gently voiced one of them. "Perhaps he loved you so much he wanted to protect you."

Lina was silent for a few moments. Lucas didn't tell her his other theory, which was that Nick Barnes, or Chtgheglovski, or whatever his name had been, had kept his mafia cell secret from her, for selfish reasons. Perhaps he'd wanted a façade of legality and normal family life to help balance his illegal activities. But then, he'd also kept Lina secret from his mafia cell. Lucas remembered what the brown-haired man had said, that they had found photos and information about Lina at Chtgheglovski's flat. No doubt they'd searched it after Chtgheglovski's disappearance, to see if he'd left any clues. They couldn't have known about Lina before, or they would have gone round to her earlier. It seemed to indicate that he'd been protecting Lina, so maybe he had truly loved her. Lucas felt a burst of jealousy at that thought, and immediately downgraded it to Chtgheglovski only having treasured Lina, in the same way that private collectors treasured their original paintings and kept them carefully locked away in secret vaults, to be enjoyed in solitude. Yes. That was better. Lina had only been a bauble to him. He couldn't have loved Lina like Lucas did.

"I feel like I should be crying, but I can't," Lina finally said. "I can't feel much of anything at the moment."

"It's the shock," Lucas said. "But it's all right. You don't have to feel." He himself was enjoying the touch of her skin next to his, her weight on his chest, and the smell of her hair in his nose.

"I hate myself for being so weak," Lina whispered.

"You're not weak," Lucas told her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "You've been through a lot to-day."

"I don't want the pain to come back," she admitted.

"I know," Lucas said. "But if you want, I'll be here with you when it does."

"Thank you," Lina said. After a moment, she added dully, "It's funny that you're still alive and he's dead. Yesterday it was the other way around for me."

Instead of answering, Lucas just hugged her a bit more tightly. Lina didn't say anything after that, and they sat in comfortable silence until her breathing became deep and regular. Lucas stayed awake a while longer, thinking. Nick Barnes was dead. Better yet, Nick Barnes had never existed. Lina had left the portrait of her and Nick at Thames House, and had even indicated she was no longer in love with the man. Even though he'd have to take things very slowly and carefully with her, Lucas still experienced a tiny spark of triumph. _He _existed. _He _was still alive and he was holding Lina in his arms, as broken as they were. But broken bones could heal, and so could broken hearts. There was hope.

xxxxx

DDSylvester: Thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope this ending wasn't a let-down. The story was meant to be more about Lucas than Spooks in general. I hope I got Harry in character, more or less, anyway. :D

Bostonchickadee: Yes, sorry, this was the last chapter, but never fear, my next Lucas-Spookas fic will definitely be longer and have lots more action. I like the name Kapitolina, too; I knew it was going to be the name I used for Lucas' wife the minute I came across it. Elizaveta is a little … well, ordinary. Thanks so much for the praise!

And thanks again to everybody who's read this far, even if you didn't comment. I hope you liked it, and you'll come lurk again on my next story.


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